


Amphibrach

by manhattans_here



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: AIGHT BOYS, AND I JUST FINISHED IT, APPRECIATE IT ITS MY CHILD, High School AU, I FEEL DEAD BUT HAPPY, IT'S TWO THIRTY IN THE MORNING, M/M, POETRY RHYTHM SCEHEMES FIC, THIS IS UNEDITED AND I WROTE IT IN ONE SITTING, albert is a my name is philip, albert is a pretentious bastard, and a jock who writes poetry, enjoy, i might be the only person walking on earth to do that, like if i were to write this from race's pov it would be just a three page keyboard smash, race is useless and gay, very cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27610547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manhattans_here/pseuds/manhattans_here
Summary: He didn’t like emotions, they were always all over the place, without any conditions or rules to sustain them. In poetry, he could place all these thoughts and emotions into something substantial, using certain techniques and rhythmic schemes, but still having room to let those emotions flow freely into words, without being repressed by poetic rules. So yes, Albert was a poet.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	1. Anapest

Albert DaSilva was a poet.

He didn’t mean to be one, language and writing was never really his scene. It surprised most people; Albert wasn’t the type of kid you’d expect to be into poetry, played quarterback since his freshman year, barely keeping up with his grades so he can stay on the team and rarely ever seen expressing any deeper emotions. But Albert learned one thing over time, and it’s that he felt a whole lot of them. He didn’t like emotions, they were always all over the place, without any conditions or rules to sustain them. In poetry, he could place all these thoughts and emotions into something substantial, using certain techniques and rhythmic schemes, but still having room to let those emotions flow freely into words, without being repressed by poetic rules. So yes, Albert was a poet.

He didn’t think of it too much, he’d just write what he felt. He found it comforting. Everything going on through his brain, he could give it an order, a rhythm; phrase it beautifully until he came to terms with it, whether it was anger, sadness, love. He learned, this way, to allow himself feel all of those things.

Albert DaSilva wrote about Racetrack Higgins when he was seventeen.

Looking back at it, Albert decided that falling for Race could be divided in three parts. This was the one third, where it started.

It first struck him that he was in love on the 7th of September, junior year of High School. It was Saturday night and he and Race were sitting on the back of his van, parked in the middle of a field with the rear doors open. Their friends had all returned home by now, but Race and Albert always saved some time for just themselves after they went out. They’d drive out of town, find a nice spot, discover the outskirts.

“Hey, Al?” Race had laid his head on his lap. “What do you think’s out there?”

“I don’t know.” Albert chuckled. “Planets. Aliens. Neil Armstrong.”

“Neil Armstrong died, Albert.” Race smiled, rolling his head so he had a view of his friend’s face.

“That or he moved to the moon.” Albert shrugged. “We could talk about the stars all night, but it’s nothing that hasn’t been said before.”

“Pretentious.” Race said. “What do you wanna talk about, then?”

“I don’t know, whatever.” Race gave him a disapproving look. He always did that, he knew when Albert was holding something back, trying to maintain a neutral image. “Alright, okay.” Albert smiled “What do you feel, Race?”

“ _What_ do I feel?”

“Well, yeah. We can read each other pretty well, I know how you’re feeling, I know what you want me to do about what you’re feeling and you’re not usually one to hide it either.” Albert explained. “I know what it is to me, but, like, what is it to you? What do you feel?”

“What do I feel…” Race hummed, giving himself a moment to think. He knew what Albert was asking. He focused on everything around him. Soft summer wind was still blowing outside, even in early September, and while he couldn’t feel it on his skin, he loved being aware of it. Being aware of the starred sky above them, even though the rear door gave him a limited view of it, aware of Albert’s presence, Albert’s voice, Albert’s impact on his life in every possible way.

“Love.” Race decided that’s what he felt. “I feel love.”

And Albert felt as if this was the first time he was introduced to the feeling, as it rolled off Race’s lips. _Love_. An entirely new meaning of the word was born in that moment. “Love?”

“I feel love, Albie.” Race laughed. “I love the sky, I love the stars, I love the earth, I love your stupid van. I love talking to you. I feel everything today and I love it.”

Albert stared down at the boy’s face, his lips parted. He watched Race’s expressions change as he spoke, the way the muscles of his face moved. Emotions flooded his brain and he frantically tried to put them in order.

“What do you love, Albert?”

And that’s when thunder struck inside Albert’s head, as every thought, every word died down, leaving one thing vibrant and clear. _You. I love you. I am in love with you, I love you._

He found his order. Three words repeated constantly, I love you, and it was all Race. Race’s head laid on his lap, Race’s eyes staring through him, Race’s voice, Race’ thoughts, Race.

He decided to call it anapest.

I love _you_.


	2. Dactyl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albert marked the second third of falling for Race a few months later, in early February.

Albert marked the second third of falling for Race a few months later, in early February.

Valentine’s day wasn’t for another two weeks and everyone was already going nuts over it. He didn’t hate Valentine’s day. He thought that, being turned into another manufactured holiday working as a tool of capitalism aside, it was sweet. A day to dedicate to the ones you love. The ones who make you feel content, happy. What he didn’t like was all the constant fuss over it every year and oh, dear god, Racetrack Higgins was the number one participant of that fuss. This year, the boy who Race had decided to giddily pine over was Spot Conlon and Albert was actually losing his mind.

“-and then after that, he just went ‘Well, see you around, Higgins.’ and then he left and _my god_ , that was probably the peak of my entire life. That was my best moment, it’s past, it’s gone, I’ve peaked.” Race gushed, leaning his head on the lunch table.

“That’s amazing, Racer.” Albert, who had stopped listening the moment Spot’s name was mentioned, mumbled absentmindedly.

“Let him enjoy the thrill, Albo, we all know that once Valentine’s over he’ll forget all about Conlon” Romeo laughed.

“Will not!” Race protested, tossing a piece of bread at Romeo’s direction.

“Sure you will! Just like you did with Tommy, and Finch and whoever it was the year after that.” Romeo pestered.

“A’ight, get outta my face, will ya?” Race laughed as the two boys started play fighting. Albert rested his head between his arms on the table, sighing.

On the walk back home from school, Albert remained quiet as he let his friend ramble on about the brunette, making sure that next time he sees Spot Conlon he’ll be calm enough not to throw any punches. He thought of the words all laid out in paper, in structure, in order, rather than yelled out way more harshly than he meant them.

“Hey, you’ve been quiet.” Race’s change of topic grounded him, making him turn his head to look at the blond, who shot a concerned look towards him. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, just… tired. Emotionally and physically.” Albert spoke, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Valentine’s coming up makes everyone go…”

“Stupid.” Race grinned. “Yeah, I know, sorry. Besides, I bet you’ll write something really beautiful out of this, huh?”

“Yes, sure, but will it be as beautiful as Spot Conlon’s left bicep?” Albert muttered, allowing himself to be bitter for a moment.

Race stared at him wide eyed at this. “I- You’re upset about that?” Albert stayed silent, looking down at his feet as they walked. “Why? I mean, why now, why with Spot?”

“It doesn’t- Well, it doesn’t _bother_ me, I just…”

“But it does.” Race spoke softly. Albert thought he’d be upset, he’d be annoyed, but he wasn’t. Race wasn’t looking for any answers for himself, he never was. The only thing he was asking for was how Albert felt, what Albert needed. That pained him to bits. “Al, what’s wrong?”

“Why Spot?” Albert said, before he could stop himself, only hoping that Race wouldn’t pick up on the unsaid rest of that sentence. _‘Why Spot and not me?’._ “I mean, I don’t get it, Racer, this guy… He’s…” Albert made a disgusted sound, making Race laugh. “And you’re…”

“Albert…”

“It just… It doesn’t seem fair. Why _Spot_?”

“Hey, Al, don’t worry, okay?” Race was smiling. “I can take care of myself. Besides, let’s not kid ourselves, Romeo’s right. Whatever there is between me and Spot will most likely be, like, _gone_ the moment Valentine’s is over. So, why not?”

_Because I love you,_ is what crept into Albert’s mind before he could even realize. That’s where he realized, his rhythm scheme had changed.

The poem he wrote that day was written in dactyl.

_I_ love you.


	3. Amphibrach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly Albert didn’t care about the words, the syntax, the order. He cared about Race’s hands running through the hair on the back of his head. He cared about how close to him he was, his hand moving from his cheek to trace his jawline. He cared about Race smiling and laughing into the kiss, causing them to pull away.

Albert was ecstatic.

It was June, the school year was finally over, no more exams, no more tests, no more homework, no more nothing.

He looked around the crowded room, spotting kids he’d literally never spoken to before as Katherine’s living room was illuminated by blacklights and glowsticks. The music was blasting through his ears and at this point he wasn’t even sure what the cup he was holding contained. “Let’s go dance, Al!” Sarah threw her arm around his shoulders, probably having had a little more than a few drinks. “Why don’t you go dance with your girlfriend, stupid?” Albert grinned at her.

“Oh, come on, Al, you’re not gonna spend all night here sulking, are you?” Sarah groaned, attempting to drag him with her. “Let’s go do something!”

“I’m not sulking, Saz, I’m _observing_.” He corrected, and he was. He had never felt happier.

“Why?” Sarah giggled. “You’re stupid, stupid.”

“Yeah, yeah, ok, go find Kath or something. I’ll be there in a sec, okay?” Sarah seemed satisfied with the answer as she nodded, grinning and skipped her way into the crowd. Albert observed. He felt love. Not towards anything particular, he felt love. He noticed the bubbly feeling in his chest as he felt the bass from the speakers, he heard the laughs and chatter and singing of the people around him, he could feel everything and he loved it.

His mind trailed back to Race that night, when he realized. When he found a whole new meaning for the word ‘love’, when Race gave that meaning to him.

Race. He loved Race. He _loved_ Race. Suddenly nothing else but the love he felt mattered. His eyes widened, he spotted Jack dancing in the crowd and marched up to him, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“Hey, Al, wha’sup?” Jack slurred.

“Race.” Albert soon realized he needed to form a full sentence. “I need to find Race, where’s Race?”

“Oh!” Jack’s lips pulled into a grin, as he realized Albert’s intent. “Fire escape.”

“Thanks, Jackie.” Albert reflected his smile.

“Go get ‘em, Albo!”

Race was, in fact, sitting in the fire escape, a cigarette lit and placed between his lips. His head snapped to Albert once he sat down next to him. “Oh, Al. Thank fuck.” He sighed in relief.

“Everything alright?” Albert asked, troubled by the boy’s reaction.

“Yeah, everything’s… perfect. Just overwhelmed.” Race smiled softly, putting out his cigarette on the rail. “Needed you here right now.”

“Good thing I was just in time, then, huh?” Albert beamed. “You need anything?”

“Just…talk to me.” Race stared off at the night sky. “What do you feel?”

“I don’t know.” Albert declared proudly. “I feel so many things Racer, it’s almost like… wow.”

“Albie, you’re not making any sense.” Race laughed.

“I feel love, Race.”

“That reminds me of that day when-“

“Yes, I know, I get it now. I feel love, I love everything I’m feeling, I love the lights, the music, I love the fact that I get to feel all of this.” Albert’s expression softened as he turned to Race, cupping his face with his hands.

Amphibrach. I _love_ you.

Nothing but that mattered. He didn’t care if Race was his best friend, or his boyfriend or a complete stranger, suddenly everything in that sentence faded out, except from that one word. He _loved_ Race, he was in love and he was over the moon. He felt the words crowd his mind until he finally voiced them.

“I love you.”

Race stared at him, taking in a breath. Albert didn’t know what his response would be. He didn’t care. He loved him. “You love me.” Race’s voice was small, his face remained expressionless.

“I _love_ you, Race.” Albert could repeat that a million times.

“You love _me_.” Anapest.

Albert simply nodded at him. Race opened his mouth, searching for something to say. Albert waited. He loved him.

“ _You_ love me.” Dactyl.

“I do.” Albert confirmed. Race’s lips tugged into a grin as he threw his arms around the ginger’s neck, pulling him into a kiss.

It wasn’t a super passionate kiss, but it wasn’t awkward and uneasy. It was sweet, it felt natural, fitting. Suddenly Albert didn’t care about the words, the syntax, the order. He cared about Race’s hands running through the hair on the back of his head. He cared about how close to him he was, his hand moving from his cheek to trace his jawline. He cared about Race smiling and laughing into the kiss, causing them to pull away. Albert leaned forward, resting their foreheads against each other’s.

“You _love_ me.” Amphibrach

And Race loved him too.


End file.
